AsFixation on You
by Ascoeur
Summary: Quinn has an unusual job: she works part time as a Grim Reaper. She receives notifications outlining the nature of how and when a victim has to die and ascertains that the target dies in the specified way. After completing her duties, the rest of the proceedings are picked up by unknown parties. She is astounded to see that next on her hit list is none other than one Rachel Berry.


Quinn Fabray was the stereotypical cheerleader. She was of the right stature – neither too short nor too tall; she strutted about the entire school with her posse, which mainly consisted of Santana and Brittany (and, sometimes, when her posse couldn't make it, she had her posse's understudies saunter about the school with her); she had the required blonde hair, blue eyes, and fair skin; and, lastly, she had all the boys flocking about her trying to woo her into romantic relationships with them and had all the girls biting their nails in envy of her glorious figure and presence.

To anyone that knew Quinn superficially, she was the typical popular chick.

To nobody aside from the dead, she was the lethal Grim Reaper.

Only the dead know about her because, obviously, as soon as they find out her second identity, they're scheduled to die at her hands.

"Quinn, marry me, my honey~!"

"Quinn, Quinn, what facial masks do you use! ? ! ?"

"Quinn, let me sample your DNA, just spit my way, please! PLEASE!"

"Quiiiiiiinn, refer me to your cosmetic surgeon!"

"Quinn, w-what color panties are you wearing today!?"

"You're so, Quinn, you're so _beautiful_, I-I just wanna _cry_!"

Santana cleared her throat. "So, you want us to get rid of these ass-kissers?"

"San, don't be mean, they're just expressing their love for Quinn," Brittany calmly said. "I mean, yeah, their affection is kind of creepy, and sort of rude, but it's affection nonetheless!"

Santana grumbled. "Brittz, the girl wanted Quinn to _spit_ on her. I highly doubt you can get creepier than that."

"Down, Santana," Quinn ordered. "They can lavish on me all they want, so long as they keep doing as I please."

The girls stopped before a puddle of slushie.

"Hmm, whaddayaknow, looks like Berry was here," Santana noted with a derisive snort.

"Yah, there's a little dry spot in the middle," Brittany pointed out, squinting her eyes.

Quinn quirked her eyebrow in interest and then turned her head to locate one of her adulating fanboys.

"Jewfro," she called. "Mop the floor."

"R-right away, my Queen!" he breathed out, preparing to take off to the janitor's closet to get supplies.

Santana stomped over to him. "Uh-uh. With. Your. Bushy. Afro."

Jacob's eyes bulged. "B-but I can't even balance on my head!"

Santana snapped her fingers. "Don't fret, we got that covered. Britt-Britt?"

Brittany bounced over, lifted Jacob Ben Israel by the waist, and stood straight over the puddle. "Sorry if you don't like the flavor," Brittany apologized sincerely. "It does wonders for your hair, though!"

And, after the remark, Santana dunked his face into the slushie pond.

"Oops, my bad, it's really hard to tell your face apart from the 'fro," she apologized with no trace of compunction.

Meanwhile, Quinn watched the scene impassively and looked about her vicinity. "I need somewhere to sit…"

Immediately, a girl rushed and crouched down. Quinn smiled in gratification and promptly sat on her back.

The girl sighed in almost orgasmic satisfaction.

Quinn pulled out her BlackBerry and skimmed through her notifications.

**You Have 1 New Activity**

The blonde opened her activity schedule and immediately spotted the scythe icon right next to the message.

It was a Grim Reaper duty call.

She hummed out with interest as she read through the outlined death order. It was interesting; the order was not that specific, which meant that she had quite the wide berth for interpretation. Those were always the most fun. Having to follow strictly doled out instructions for how someone had to go was really annoying.

_Let's see who the lucky target is…_

Quinn scrolled down the message with amusement…

And then instantly stiffened.

**Rachel Barbra Berry**

She swallowed with some difficulty, having everything in her body go momentarily limp, but then a surge of exhilaration coursed through her being.

A glint of malevolent delight twinkled in her eyes.

. (X_X) R.I.P - . (X_X) R.I.P - . (X_X) R.I.P - . (X_X) R.I.P - (X_X) R.I.P -. (X_X) R.I.P -. (X_X) R.I.P -. (X_X) R.I.P - (X_X) R.I.P -. (X_X) R.I.P - . (X_X) R.I.P

Rachel was humming along to one of her favorite show tunes as she performed her nightly exercises. She currently found herself working out on her elliptical. It was the only constant in both her morning and nightly rituals.

She had had difficulty getting all the slushie residue out of her hair, especially after it had tangled when the colorant hardened.

These were the daily trials she was forced to contend with at school.

_I will not be deterred, however, _Rachel thought to herself, determined. _Every star has had to grapple with some insurmountable challenge before finally reclaiming his or her rightful place in the spotlight of success._

" _**RACHEL BARBRA BERRY ! ! ! ! **_"

"EEEEEEEEEEKKKKKK!"

The sheer force of the reverberating voice threw her off her elliptical and smacking into her pink-coated walls.

"W-what was that!?" she questioned in a state of urgency. "W-who are you!?"

" _**YOUR TIME OF JUDGMENT HAS ARRIVED **_"

"Judgment! ?" she echoed, astonished. "I-is it the end of the world?"

" _**IT IS THUS FOR YOU **_"

"But… But I've read the sacred texts of almost every religion existing in the modern era and none of the indicators precluding the apocalypse in any of them ever manifested!" Rachel argued.

The booming voice sighed.

" _**I MEANT IT WAS THE END OF THE WORLD FOR **__**YOU**_"

"I apologize but I cannot help but find fault in your statement," Rachel countered, her anal retentiveness flaring up. "I believe the scientific community has come to the agreement that, yes, we all experience things in relativity, and that no objective truth or experience may ever actually be observed, but the Earth is such a tremendous planet, it cannot be terminated _only for me_. If it is the 'end of the world' for me, then it must be so for everyone else inhabiting the—"

"_**OH. MY. GAWD. MANHANDS, DO I HAVE TO SLAP SOME SENSE INTO YOU FOR YOU TO GET THAT IT WAS JUST FIGURATIVE SPEECH ? ! ? ! ? ! **_"

Rachel blinked rapidly. "Wait a minute… 'Manhands'? 'Slap'? 'Figurative Speech'? The poorly concealed exasperation dripping from that sentence? It can't possibly be…"

Right on cue, an intimidating thunder rung out in the room, and lightning flashed as a shadowed figure emerged from the clouds that had ominously spiraled over the ceiling.

The figure gracefully landed with a "thump."

" _**That's right, Berry**_, " the figure said with a malicious grin. " _**It's none other than me, Quinn Fabray, the epitome of perfection and bane of your existence. **_"

Rachel furrowed her brow as she squinted at Quinn. "Oh."

" _**Really?**_ " Quinn said with disbelief. " _**That's all you have to say? Did I not just step out of a cloud, with lightning flashing and all? **_"

Rachel sighed in disappointment. "No, Quinn, really, it's not you, though the lightning effects were really spectacular and perfectly timed with your entrance."

" _**Thanks, **_"Quinn said quickly, pushing a button from a remote she was holding and instantly having all the effects shut off.

"It's just that… I had placed my bets on you being Santana is all," muttered Rachel with disgruntlement, folding her arms with a petulant huff. "You were a close second, though."

Quinn frowned with mild irritation, drawing in her eyebrows in distaste. " _**What are you disappointed that I'm **__**not**__** Santana? Would you rather she be here instead of me? **_"

"No, no, no, that's not it at all! Will you listen to yourself?" Rachel said indignantly. "It's just… I'm not used to being incorrect."

" _**Well, it's not **__**my**__** fault your ego can't take a hit,**_ " Quinn grumbled out with annoyance.

" Please lower your voice, Quinn!" Rachel hissed out with urgency. "It's getting to be really late and I don't want my parents being roused and wondering what all this hubbub in my room is about!"

" _**Oh, sorry,**_ " Quinn said, biting her lip and pressing another button on her remote. " Better? "

"Much better, thank you," politely said Rachel in gratitude.

"You're welco—WAIT JUST A MIN—WHY IN HELL AM I ACCOMODATING YOU! ?" Quinn shrieked out with incredulity.

"SSSSSHHHHH!" Rachel shushed, and then whispered out, "I don't know! Why ARE you here, Quinn! ? And what are you donning!? You look like you're about to guide a funeral procession."

"Really, Berry? _Really_? You're going to criticize me on _my_ outfit?" Quinn inquired, shaking her head sardonically.

Rachel looked down at her cartoon crocodile shirt. "Touché."

"It came with my job," Quinn replied with disinterest. "Well, part-time job."

"May I ask what type of job requires you to wear a Halloween cloak, worn sandals, and what appears to be a painfully heavy scythe?"

"I'm a Grim Reaper," easily responded the blonde.

"Hmm."

"Seriously, your reactions are so annoyingly anti-climactic!" Quinn huffed out peevishly.

"I've been startled to the point of a heart attack throughout my high school bullying experience, and I'm also an exemplary actress. Encounters with the supernatural are just yet another item to add to my growing list of things-that-used-to-but-are-no-longer-able-to-surp rise-me-in-any-way," repeated Rachel with a shrug. "But _a_ Grim Reaper?"

"Yeah, there are more of us," Quinn said dismissively. "Too many people die a day for one person to take care of every one of them. And the pay's acceptable."

"So, Quinn Fabray, you're a Grim Reaper," Rachel said with an appraising run over of her eyes through the length of the blonde's appearance. "I hope you do not take offense, but I find this job quite befitting of you. Are you looking into it as a long-term profession?"

"I skimmed through the pamphlets and while the benefits are great, I don't think that I—ARE WE HONESTLY HAVING THIS CONVERSATION!?" Quinn immediately cut off. "You _do _know why I'm here, right?"

"Will feigning ignorance at all delay you from your presence's purposes?"

"No."

"Then yes I do."

"Then let's cut to the chase," Quinn said, pulling out her BlackBerry. "Rachel Barbra Berry: to die of asphyxiation or choking."

Rachel stepped closer to Quinn in order to see what the screen displayed. "Is that really what it says?"

"Yup," Quinn said curtly. "Now let's get to it."

"W-what? ABSOLUTELY NOT!"

"Why not?"

"Because it's… it's…"

"… A pitiful way to go?"

"Granted, I did think it was pathetic. Why wasn't I given a more dramatic or memorable way to go?"

Quinn shrugged. "I don't know. I have no influence over the powers that be. And the powers that be want you to choke. So let's get a move on here."

"I already refused your lethal advances!"

"Nobody cares what you think, Berry! Why are you being so difficult?"

Rachel looked insulted. "You are honestly inquiring as to why I wouldn't want to die? Who actually wants to die, Quinn!"

"Everyone who's not me?" Quinn replied in a 'duh' kind of tone. "Seriously, I have no idea how they live with themselves."

"We're not all in love with ourselves, Quinn!" Rachel countered.

Quinn quirked an amused eyebrow.

"I realize that was an invalid comeback," Rachel relented. "But it does not give you an excuse to—to—to _murder _me!"

"Rachel, you're making this more complicated than it has to be," Quinn sighed. "Look, I have a schedule to keep. I have deadlines—in the most literal sense—and I have to abide by them, otherwise I'm fired."

"AND I'M DEAD."

"Exactly, so now, if you'd just brush your hair aside so I can grab at your neck…"

"THERE WILL BE NO NECK GRABBING IN THIS ROOM!"

"Then how am I supposed to choke you! ?" Quinn asked with exasperation.

"You just don't!" shrieked Rachel.

"Look, you dawdling dwarf, I need to get home before my family notices I'm gone"—Quinn rolled her eyes—"Actually, scratch that, wouldn't be the first time they don't notice. I need to get home in order to feed my kitty. Now"—Quinn stuck out her hands with a bored expression—"Just put your neck in my hands and let me make this quick for you before I decide to instead shove my fist down your throat and have you die a slow, painful, and uncomfortable death."

"How is that any better!" accused the brunette in desperation.

"It isn't. That's the point of the threat."

"You will not come anywhere near my trachea, Quinn Fabray!" Rachel squeaked out. "I'd rather be dead than have you kill me!"

Quinn arched an eyebrow.

"… I realize that was an invalid comeback."

Quinn chuckled humorlessly. "Well, then, if that's how it's going to be…"

Rachel backed away slowly. "I can't say I like the tone of your voice presently, Quinn…"

Quinn breathed deeply and exhaled protractedly. "Don't say I never tried to do anything nice for you."

And the blonde slammed the girl to the hairdresser, knocking the wind out of her.

Rachel coughed lightly and gathered her bearing before glancing at Quinn with dreadful shock. "I can't… I can't believe you just… you've always bullied me, but it never got so bad that you would actually inflict physical violence upon me…"

Quinn stared into the smaller girl's distressed eyes, glistening with the residual jolt of betrayal.

The blonde inhaled shakily, hating herself for second-guessing her actions.

"I'm not the one that wants you dead, Berry," she growled out, feeling a disconcerting pit of internal conflict brewing in her abdomen.

"The powers that be?" silently breathed out Rachel.

"The powers that be," succinctly replied Quinn.

"I'm not dying tonight, Quinn."

"You can resist all you want. I have a perfect track record, and you will not ruin that."

"You keep track of the people you kill?"

"Yeah, I have to make sure they die in the way the higher order issued their death sentence."

"May I at least know why I have to die so young?"

"Um, I don't know, maybe 'cause you're so annoying your voice even got on the nerve of the divine beings from above? How do you expect me to know this stuff?"

"You work for them."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "I'm just a mortal, Berry. I don't actually come into contact with them. I just do all the dirty work. After you die, an angel and a devil will come get you and decide whether you go off to heaven or hell."

"Hmm…"

Rachel continued to look disheartened, and Quinn huffed in irritation.

"To your credit, I hope you go to heaven, you garrulous gnome," Quinn breathed out, clenching her fist. "That way, we probably won't have to see each other again in the afterlife."

Rachel perked up, eyes wide. "Q-Quinn, do you think you—?"

A soft knock on the door.

Both girls directed their gaze to the source of the sound, alarmed.

"Rachel?" the voice of a man meekly sounded through the wooden door. "Are you okay in there? We heard a clatter?"

Rachel and Quinn exchanged quick glances.

Quinn glared and Rachel's eyes quivered.

"I-I'm fine, Daddy," she called out after nervously gulping. "I was just practicing crowd surfing and became a little too involved."

Quinn shot her a questioning incredulous look, practically saying, "Really? That's the best Your Genius could come up with?"

Rachel narrowed her eyes dangerous and snapped a finger to her lips, signaling a "shush!"

Her father chuckled on the other side of the door. "Alright, honey, sorry to interrupt, just be careful, we're not there to practice catching you at this hour!"

Quinn snickered.

Rachel huffed.

"Okay, Daddy, I will, have a good night!" Rachel called out moodily.

"G'night, darling!"

And steps gradually diminishing in sound potency walked away from the room.

"Phew," both girls exhaled.

"This isn't over, Berry," warned Quinn dangerously.

Rachel stared back with a defiant intensity. "It never shall be, Quinn. I won't settle for death."

"Your deadline's tomorrow," Quinn explained with detachment. "I hope you enjoy your evening, because it will be your last."

"I'll be the one to determine that," Rachel replied with just as much composure.

Quinn grumbled and headed towards Rachel's window, with her scythe ripping part of Rachel's matted floor.

"Quinn, your scythe…" Rachel complained. "These types of matting are expensive."

"The thing's heavy, okay?" Quinn snapped. "And, trust me, money's going to be the least of your worries after tomorrow."

Rachel nodded and contemplated with amusement as Quinn tried to lift her scythe and get it through her window.

"I believe you should try and stick it out horizontally rather than vertically so that the dimensions of the window don't block-"

"Ugh! I know what I'm doing, Point Dexter, I was going to figure it out eventually," Quinn cried disgracefully, pushing her schythe out the window and having it land with a musky clunk and a faint wail. "Aw, Gawd."

"What's wrong?"

"I think I might have accidentally decapitated somebody down there," she groaned.

"_QUINN_!"

"Sheesh, I didn't mean to, go off on me why don't you!" Quinn complained, rolling her eyes. "This is so coming off my paycheck."

"Quinn, I do not wish to find a body in my bushes tomorrow, do you know what sort of trouble my family could get into?" Rachel berated. "I don't want detectives coming to investigate and bringing my innocence into question. I cannot have a criminal record preceding me before going to Broadway!"

"I got it, okay? Call off your vocal chords, Berry," Quinn said, sounding tired. "It's was probably just a cat or something."

"I certainly hope it was no living being at all."

"Calm down, you won't even be here to worry about those things anyway," Quinn assured.

"Should I prepare for a closed or open casket service?" Rachel inquired with morbid humor.

"If you piss me off any more, I'm not even sure there's going to _be_ a body," Quinn spat with narrowed eyes.

"I bid you a good night's sleep, Quinn," Rachel replied with a teasing smile.

"Rest in peace, Berry."

And Quinn was gone.

* * *

Hey, guys! I know I'm supposed to be working on Katharsis right now, but this idea just popped into my head and I just couldn't help but write it down! It was too tempting! I hope you liked it. This is a two-shot, which means that the next chapter is the last and concluding installment.

I hope you enjoyed it!


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